


the only thing to make me better

by heibai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: How to Hide Your Boner 101, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, failed attempt at making a more mature story, fluff?? comedy?? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 06:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13382034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heibai/pseuds/heibai
Summary: is a kiss from you, babyIt's a balmy summer day in the dance studio and Johnny is feelingverybothered.





	the only thing to make me better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minty_galaxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minty_galaxy/gifts).



> thanku for always helping me get the drive to write.
> 
> this is my first time writing a rated T -for sexual **T** ension T- fic and I can't believe i did it. sorry for the awkwardness, i swear I'll do better next time

What could be worse than having a dance practice in the middle of a balmy summer day?

 

Having a dance practice in the middle of a balmy summer day _without a working air conditioner._

 

“When will it get fixed???” The kids would ask the building manager at least once every hour, bolting down the hall to their cold office room both as a petty move to terrorize the poor sods and as a way to find some blessed haven to cool down their overheated bodies that were drenched from head to toe with perspiration. If all nine of them were nasty and bored enough to try and wrung out the sweat from their clothes, it could’ve easily fill the rain bucket laying at the corner of the corridor of their ‘in the middle of a pointless renovation’ dance studio.

 

They would groan in unison everytime the building manager say, “as soon as we’ve installed the roofing and the air conditioner units are cleaned and the cables are tidied up,-” and yadda and yadda and yadda. Whatever bullshit of an excuse that the manager whipped out of her ass entered through their right ear, and excited through the left, and every single one of them would never fail to leave behind a piece of smelly clothing item in the well conditioned office room before they returned to their practice hall, so that the building caretakers would always be reminded of the torture that they were suffering through.

 

Aside from petty group attacks, every single one of them also have their own special strategy to go through their five hours of hell.

 

Mark and Taeil would have a perpetual stash of ice cubes that never seem to ever run out, even though the two of them would never be seen without having at least one cube nestling at the back of their mouth. The sound of them chewing through countless liters of frozen _everything_ (mostly it was water, but once Donghyuk found a frozen cube of undiluted prune juice and since then nobody was ever sure of the exact liquid content of the ice that the two of them were sharing) could even be heard over the song they were currently learning.

 

Sicheng would constantly fight with Doyoung over who could get the spot nearest to the open window and in the middle of their endless bickering, Jaehyun would just silently and effortlessly slip behind their backs and stand quietly on their coveted spot. The air conditioner has been broken for three days and for three days those two mules would always fall into the same exact hole every single time. Doyoung would then grumble his way through practice with a wet hand towel tied around his head like he was an old grandpa on hot springs and Sicheng would use his silent warfare of vengeful glares to intimidate Jaehyun away from what he thought was a spot he most deserve. It never worked.

 

Donghyuk would more often than not disappear god knows where.

 

Yuta would be topless, which, most of them guessed was something he’d always wanted to do anyway. An easy conclusion to make, what with him being the only person inside the practice hall that seemingly enjoyed their current situation _more_ than what they normally have. Mark speculated that Yuta was only using the broken AC as an excuse to start taking his shirt off, and would probably pretend to forget that he didn’t need to do it anymore once everything was back to normal.

 

Taeyong would try his best to be professional and maintain the good spirit of the group with his lame ass puns (i.e., ‘the day is hot because _we’re all hot_ ’, soon proceeded with Doyoung’s sweaty shoe flying across the room and hitting him square on his butt). He probably also cried himself to sleep at night after he looked at his water bills, because every single day he probably went through twenty pairs of spare clothes as if he was a performing quick change artist with an overdue rent.

 

And Johnny? Johnny wouldn’t do much else but hide behind the water dispenser and silently be bothered.

 

No, not just _‘bothered by the heat and the antics of his team mate’_ , bothered. But _‘bothered by the heat that came from the outside, and also the one that came from the inside’_ , bothered.

 

He knew spending almost all of his waking hours staring at a topless Yuta would be a bad idea.

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

 

Funny thing is, Yuta’s lack of upper body coverage was not the main problem in Johnny’s struggle to maintain his sanity.

 

It _helped_ perpetuate the madness, it might’ve even been the catalyst, but it wasn’t the reason why Johnny would always take the longest ice cold shower back at the dorm in the history of long, ice cold showers.

 

Taeyong. It was Taeyong.

 

Damp hair, sweat dripping, shamelessly-wearing-what-is-technically-a-crop-top Taeyong.

 

Taeyong, the person that was responsible for his discomfort. As the heat, combined with his mysterious spike of hormonal activities, got Johnny to resign himself to wearing the baggiest pair of sweatpants that he owned (something so baggy it came in the way of his dancing) layered over a pair of uncomfortably tight briefs to anticipate if he ever got too excited and… well, for the lack of fairer words… and give himself a boner.

 

Johnny was sitting right beside the water dispenser, half leaning and half melting against the heated surface with a chewed up plastic cup dangling against his gritted teeth. He sacrificed the last of his body’s ability to cool itself down for his little hiding spot, and in extension, a small window for him to ogle at the source of his madness.

 

At that moment Taeyong was wiping the fogged up mirror with his bare hand, before he squinted his eyes as he went ahead and raked his fingers through the floppy strands of his drenched hair. His gaze met Johnny’s through their reflections and Johnny had to distract himself from Taeyong’s curious grin with a deep swig of his ice cold water, as he hoped that with the water, goes too his desire to run up to Taeyong and do to him things that would only make the mirror-fogging situation even worse than it already was. It was of no use, of course. He was still feeling bothered.

 

Johnny thought that, after spending years upon years of dancing and living together with the guy, he’d finally built a strong enough mental immunity to the raw sex appeal that would ooze out of those limbs everytime Taeyong danced. Johnny’s seen him sweat. Johnny’s _tasted_ his sweat, remembering that one time when someone threw Taeyong’s drenched hand towel right into his mouth while he was yawning. He’s seen Taeyong change out of his practice clothes to clean civilians clothes a billion times. They’ve seen each other naked.

 

A lot.

 

Of times.

 

Before.

 

And Johnny was fine with it all. Totally fine. Fine and dandy. Dandily-dindily-doo.

 

Ok. To be fair him and cold showers are old, inseparable pals but never before had he fell to such deep pit of despairing need as the one he’d found himself looking up from for these past three days.   

 

How can a broken air conditioner broke him so fundamentally like this?

 

“Johnny-O,” Yuta’s sharp calling of his name brought up Johnny’s consciousness from the deep recesses of his brain. With a few rapid blinks of his eyes, Johnny quickly re-familiarise himself with his surroundings so that he could pinpoint the exact location of his current conversational partner.

 

“We’re calling it a day. Wanna come? We’re getting something to eat.”

 

Johnny gave the foggy room a quick sweep and saw that most if not _all_ of his mates have decided that enough is enough and if they had to do a walk-out protest to get what they want… well, here it is, they finally did it.

 

Oh, how much he wanted to say yes. Escape the cloying feel of what 100% humidity level must’ve feel like on his skin and the heavy air that seemed to instantly condense into droplets of salty beads of sweat inside his nostrils. Feet that would constantly slip on the crystallised puddles on the padded floor. Constantly breathing in the scent of the devil’s anus.

 

Yes, he wanted to run away so quickly from this wretched place and leave all his sinful daydreams behind the fogged up glass door, but then he felt a sharp stare drilling into his back and he instantly sensed the cold ice of dread slowly freezing him up. Chasing away the heat so quickly with an emotion he could only describe as _‘the fear you felt when your parents called you using your full name after you’ve done something wrong.’_

 

“Sorry man, I think I need to stay back for a bit.”

 

Johnny was hoping that Yuta, or Donghyuk (well, maybe not Donghyuk, as the kid was one of the first to bolt out of the room with his backpack on tow when he found out that they were dismissed), or maybe even Taeil would stay behind with furrowed brows and offer him some chit-chatty nonsense to persuade him to come with them.

 

But no. Turns out everyone was too tired of being treated like guinea pigs for some experimental concept of sauna house to act nice to their fellow comrade, and everyone only responded to Johnny’s refusal with an absent minded shrug. “Your loss then,” Yuta said with a dismissive sigh.

 

“Hey, get us something. I’ll transfer you the money,” all of a sudden, Taeyong chimed into the conversation from his spot by the mirror.

 

“No need. I’ll just add it to your piling tab of shits that you owe me,” to Yuta’s cheeky hand-waving of his request, Taeyong threw a balled up tissue paper at his general direction. But before it could hit him square on the nose, Yuta took one measly step to the right and proceeded to dash out of the studio with one loud screeching laughter echoing at his tail.

 

Johnny wanted to join in on that small window of enjoying his surroundings without having to mind for any consequences. But he couldn’t, of course. Because Johnny’s consequence was suddenly standing in front of him with both hands perching on his hips, and to Taeyong’s annoyed frown, Johnny could only offer him an apologetic grin.

 

The starting syllables for his apology, for an insincere _‘I’m sorry,’_ has coated the tip of his tongue but he could only let out a breathless _oop_ when Taeyong grabbed him by his arm, the arm whose hand was holding his chewed up cup, and effortlessly dragged him to the front corner of the studio.

 

“What’s gotten into you lately?” Taeyong said as he plugged his phone back into the portable speaker that still miraculously work even though it’s been constantly simmering in suffocating vapour made out of salty sweat for days.

 

 _‘Inappropriate thoughts about you,’_ Johnny wanted to say. He might’ve even say it for real if only he wasn’t being too preoccupied with trying to fix the annoying wedgie out of his butt crack and missed the perfect opportunity to do so. Because silence only could stay that way for so long with Taeyong being around, as the self-titled _‘walking loudspeaker’_ has played their song and was yelling to Johnny over the loud music to, “do it from the top!”

 

Johnny _wanted_ to be able to keep up. He really did, swear to god and anything beyond. But every turn lead to a stumble and every slide lead to a wobble and Johnny’s felt his sight glazing over in a combination of fear and panic when Taeyong suddenly stopped his dancing, before they even reached the chorus, mind you, and threw both of his arms to the air in frustration.

 

“Are you doing this deliberately?” Taeyong half yelled as he gave Johnny’s reflection the harshest staring beatdown of the century. Probably because he didn’t find Johnny to be worthy of the effort to pivot his body 180 degrees to the side.

 

Johnny wanted to tell Taeyong that his sudden tendency of fucking up moves and missing beat counts were not based on any malicious intent, but saying the truth of _‘this is all_ _your_ _fault,’_ would only screw everything even more and Johnny was so not in the mood of bickering with this disappointed leader of his. Not because he was afraid it would lead to the deterioration of the group’s solidarity, but because Johnny was afraid anger would only lead to a slip in his self control and he’d end up doing things in the heat of the moment that he would never do if he was well… sober.

 

Things like grabbing Taeyong by the collars of his shirt…

 

Things like squaring up to him and pushing him flush against the mirror…

 

Things like feeling their bodies pressed together, all nasty and sweaty and warmed up and such, with Taeyong looking up at him with those wide eyes of his as he would probably flare his nostrils, grit his teeth, and hissed, _“what are you going to do? Fight me?”_

 

Then Johnny would probably answer with a, _“yes.”_ A very breathy and bothered _yes,_ and once Taeyong thought he’d get his jaw sacked, Johnny would,-

 

“Johnny!”

 

“W…,- what?!” A loud snap of a finger brought Johnny out of his shameful daydream and drilling holes onto the floor with his empty stares and he, again, had to hide all his turbulent emotion while facing his worst nightmare with whatever shred of dignity left inside his body.

 

Taeyong saw his pitiful expression and sighed, the type that indicated that he’d given up and honestly was clueless as to what he could do to help, “am I pushing you too hard?” With Taeyong suddenly pulling the plug out of his phone, the silence that followed made his question sound much too serious and dire for Johnny’s taste. He quickly scrambled to find a way to neutralise the situation, but after seeing his track record of his struggles to mentally subjugate himself, it came to no surprise that Johnny failed to do so.

 

“No,” he knew _no_ was too short of an answer, too measly to be able to elevate the sense of dread that was slowly descending upon them like a blackout curtain. An extra layer of heaviness piled ungraciously on top of an already thick atmosphere and Johnny felt like he was going to choke on all the water droplets condensing at the back of his throat, “I’m just finding it hard to concentrate lately.”

 

Well, he wasn’t lying when he said that. But his honesty only lasted for so long, as his answer for when Taeyong asked him, _“and why is that so?”_ was a complete bogus.

 

“Family… problem,” he said in a weak hush, taking a few unwilling steps to the front of the studio to join Taeyong at his resting spot, sitting by the wall mirror. Because he was tired of running away from his fear and if the only way to quall his raging desire was to expose himself to patient zero and develop an even stronger immunity to it, then here it is. He finally did it.

 

“Family problem huh?” From the little crook on his smile and the sing-songy tone of his words, Johnny knew that Taeyong saw through his lie like a seahawk seeing its prey swimming under a clear surface of a body of water.

 

_You, you, you, you, you, you’re the problem. Don’t… don’t wipe the sweat off your face with the hem of your shirt, don’t use your fingers to ruffle your hair, don’t look at me with that damn half-closed eyelids while you rest your damn head on the damn foggy mirror,- FOR FUCK SAKE,- I gotta stop this. Ok Johnny you got this. Calm down, you can do this._

 

He couldn’t do it.

 

Johnny sat down, and felt his heart getting yanked down three floors before it settled comfortably inside his sour stomach when Taeyong tilted his head ever so slightly, not stopping until his lazy gaze were linked straight with Johnny’s exhausted one, “you know you can always talk to me about anything, right?”

 

 _‘Sadly, not about this,’_ he internally sighed, the sound of his frustration echoing inside his skull. Nearly empty skull, please take note of that, filled only with the rapid flashing of scenes of what could’ve be. What he could _do._ What _they_ could do. Because when Taeyong further shifted his position, Johnny ended up not only having to deal with a shared glance, but also with Taeyong’s head resting comfortably against his shoulder as he opened his phone and idly browsed through his social media accounts.

 

Johnny’s position granted him the view of Taeyong’s shoulder. _Naked_ shoulder, as his shirt was trapped between their touching arms and their squirmings have caused it to be tugged to the point that Johnny could clearly see his collarbone, still blushing all over from their earlier physical exertion. Taeyong’s hair felt soft against his neck, slightly cool as the moisture on it slowly bled to Johnny’s loose tee. The scent of his shampoo mixed in with the sweet smell of sweat and for a second Johnny felt guilty for ever thinking that their studio smelled like the inside of the devil’s ass. Everyone else's’ perspiration might smell like the slimy liquid that pooled at the bottom of a garbage can, but Johnny was somehow okay with having Taeyong’s sweaty head shoved so near to his nostrils.

 

Okay was an understatement, even. Johnny was sure he wouldn’t mind if he was forced to nuzzle his nose to the thickest part of Taeyong’s hair and take one deep whiff of his intoxicating scent.

 

As noted from his wild imaginations, there were many things that Johnny wouldn’t mind doing to Taeyong. If only he was brave enough to _tell him about it._

 

He didn’t even know what made him feel so afraid about telling Taeyong about what he felt. Tell him, _‘uhh hey, excuse me but I’ve been thinking about you in ways that a friend never should ever since the day we met.’_ Yes. Tell him that. Taeyong knew Johnny swings that way, and it is clear that Taeyong is, at the very least, not straight. Also, Johnny knew a frontal approach worked on Taeyong, knowing that one time when a drunk Yuta (of course, it was Yuta) dared Taeyong to kiss him in front of the whole group and they somehow proceeded to spend the night together.

 

Ever since that night, the two of them became the bestest of friends. Fire forged friends. The type of really close friends who could only be after they’ve managed to resolve the sexual tension between them through some good ol’ fucking. But that wasn’t the point. Taeyong’s healthy sexual life was not the point. His casual stance to it though, was another story.

 

And maybe that’s what he feared the most. Not because Johnny thought the task would be difficult, but that it would be too easy. As frankly, even if maybe he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want to just be another tally on Taeyong’s list of recreational fling. Not that he would complain if he ended up as only that. Taeyong would’ve perfectly understand if Johnny told him the truth behind what was bothering him. He might’ve even granted a few of Johnny’s wishes. But, he wanted to take it slow, you know, doing his best to make it count.

 

“Are you okay?” Johnny has been diving so deep inside his pool of wishes that when Taeyong’s quiet inquiring question pulled him out of it, Johnny let out a surprised gasp and tiny jump, accompanied by him trying to assess the situation _down there_ in panic, pulling at his baggy sweatpants to make sure that his lapse of consciousness didn’t lead to any unsightly... sight.

 

There was nothing out of place, and for that Johnny was thankful, but he then realised that he hasn't been breathing properly and so allowed himself to let out one long sigh, “I am.”

 

“Can I at least take a guess on what’s been bothering you?” Taeyong was looking at him with his wide-eyed curiosity, his dense eyelashes looking darker than they usually look from the heavy moisture that surrounded them. Johnny wasn’t sure when was the moment Taeyong stopped using his phone and shifted all his attention to him, although Johnny wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to that.

 

“I told you, it’s,-”

 

Before Johnny was able to tell another lie, the door to their studio was suddenly pulled open. At first Johnny thought that it was one of the kids, running back because they forgot their wallet or something. But when instead of a dishevelled, barely-adult boy Johnny saw the face of a disheveled stuck-in-a-midlife-crisis lady, he and Taeyong jumped to their feet so fast Johnny almost fell back on his bum when he slipped on his own puddle of sweat.

 

The building manager only watched their act of trying to put up a straight front with a flat, unamused expression. But before the air in the room could turn even more awkward than what it already was, she shrugged and delivered the best news of the week, of the entire summer months, even, in one long, unbroken tired sigh, “the AC is fixed.”

 

Johnny swore he could hear the building manager mumble another set of sentence. Something along the line of _‘from now on please don’t pester us in the office.’_ But he was far too busy shouting, squealing, jumping, dancing, fighting over the AC remote with Taeyong, basically celebrating the end of their torture to care to listen.

 

It was a no brainer anyway. If there was nothing that they needed from the building managers, they will never pester them in their office. So after sending her off with a _thankyou_ yelled out in an overly enthusiastic shout, the two of them scrambled frantically to lay down on the floor, right on the most optimal path of the much missed blow of cold, air conditioned breeze.

 

 _‘This is it,’_ Johnny thought, _‘oooh god this is it.'_ The cool air coming out the fully turned up AC quickly drying out the sheen of perspiration from his skin, quickly evaporating the spots of sweat from his tee, quickly blowing off the uninvited thoughts from his brain and leaving it empty. Truly empty this time, nothing much was left inside Johnny’s brain but the blissfully prickly sensation of soothing wind blowing the hair on his arm, and the feel of how the corners of his lips were pulled back to form a small grin of contentment.

 

The blank state of his mind caused Johnny to fail to immediately notice that there was another _thing_ that was causing some disturbances on the hair of his arm. Or maybe, it was because the invading sensation started oh so softly, that Johnny wasn’t able to differentiate it from the AC breeze until he felt the unmistakable feel of a human’s knuckles pressing against the back of his hand.

 

The skin on his cheeks just had to quickly re-acquainted itself with the feeling of searing heat when Johnny turned his head to the side and saw that Taeyong was looking at him, the smile on his face growing ever so slightly wider when their gazes finally met. “Feeling better now?” Taeyong asked as he propped himself up on his elbow, causing his hand to be pressed even tighter against Johnny’s. It took Johnny all his self restraint and a held breath to stop himself from doing the simple move of opening up his palm and letting their fingers lace together like a lattice top.

 

And then something happened.

 

Something that Johnny’d been wishing to happen but now that it did, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted it in the first place because it felt, for the briefest of second, like death had visited him and gave his heart a punch so hard it stopped. 

 

Taeyong kissed him.

 

Totally unprecedented. What Johnny remembered last before Taeyong leaned over and captured the start of his answer with his still smiling lips was the sound of Taeyong’s airy laughter. Oh, how it made Johnny feel ashamed for thinking of so many filthy fantasies involving him, as this kiss was even more innocent than the very first one he had when he was just a wee elementary school student.

 

With Taeyong’s soft lips pressed gently against his, Johnny figured that he didn’t mind innocence, he can live with being innocent. But when Taeyong pushed himself away from a beet-faced Johnny, the latter saw a sheen of _something_ at the back of Taeyong’s eyes, just like how the mirror inside their dance studio would fog up after any grueling practice session. And at that moment Johnny decided that no, he can’t live his life just being Taeyong’s innocent love. Not when Taeyong’s lips has just been against his and Taeyong’s hand somehow slipped and was resting on his hip. Was it accidental? Was it not? Johnny didn’t care, because the feeling of Taeyong’s fingers pressing against his sweatpants’ waistband was all it took for him to turn the tide to their favour.

 

The next time they kissed, innocent would be the last adjective for anyone to describe it. Johnny would like to think that it was him who initiated it, with him jolting up from his previous position and using his weight to keep Taeyong with his back on the floor. But maybe, it was Taeyong who only continued on what he started, using his free hand to grab onto Johnny’s back and fingernails digging into his shirt as he utilised the momentum of him rolling over to drag Johnny down with him. Johnny caught a glimpse of Taeyong’s victorious grin and he melted when he heard Taeyong’s failure to even try to mask his giddiness, as throaty sighs began to gradually mix with his sharp laughter. What was not dampened by their open mouthed kisses escaped in a peculiar sound that only further scrambled the last remaining sanity in Johnny’s poor, poor brain.

 

“Is this what’s been bothering you?” Taeyong asked when they parted, when Johnny’s hold against his wrist unknowingly grew a bit too firm for what was essentially only a fun activity that happened in a public space and Taeyong decided that it was the perfect time to end their kiss (because if not, they might not be able to end it at all). His voice came out in nothing more than a hoarse whisper yet it was successful in pulling out a groan from Johnny’s bitten lips.

 

“I never planned for you to find out,” Johnny said after he hesitantly nodded his head.

 

“And why is that so?”

 

Taeyong’s flushed, slightly swollen lips were a much too enticing sight to be ignored, so as a way to kill two birds with one stone (i.e., fulfilling his long held desire and giving him more time to string up a coherent answer to Taeyong’s question), Johnny leaned in and kissed his smugness away with a kiss softer than what they just had, but still more urgent that the innocence that started it all.

 

“I didn’t want to mess it up.” It was Johnny’s turn to whisper his answer, when distance is something no one was willing to get and his words slipped only through the small gap between their lips that they could afford. Johnny tried to cherish this rare moment of silence between them. But try as he might, he couldn’t still his racing heartbeat, what with Taeyong starting to absentmindedly press his knee on the inside of Johnny’s thigh, and the heel of his right foot rubbing the back of Johnny’s calf, causing their legs to get even more intermingled than before.

 

“Well, it’s not messed up, isn’t it?” It was bizarre for Johnny to look at Taeyong in such a compromising position. A position carbon copied from one of his numerous fantasies. Arms framing his face, both trapped under Johnny’s firm holdings, hair damp with sweat, lips glistening in a mixture of their saliva. Taeyong curled his fingers up and softly dug his nails onto the reddened skin of Johnny’s hand and he had to bite the inside of his mouth to make sure that this wasn’t just a very vivid lucid dream, where the next time he blinked he would wake up on his bed, one leg dangling over the frame and the sound of Jaehyun’s snore the only thing that exist to mask his heavy breathing.

 

But seeing the utter calmness of Taeyong as he was lying under him caused Johnny to be reminded of his inert fear, and he used the last of his strength to push himself away from a very visibly disappointed Taeyong, “no, I guess.”

 

“Ah, you want to take it slow?” He said in a cheerful tone that sounded like it was forced out of him. But after he heard Johnny’s quiet mumbling as he pushed himself to his feet, Taeyong was finally able to allow himself to take a long, relieved breath.

 

“I want you to only want me.”

 

“What makes you think I don’t?” With one sharp tug, Taeyong got up and grabbed Johnny hand, once again pulling the disbelieved-looking boy to the front of the studio because they’ve wasted too much time fooling around and not practicing.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“Why should I?”

 

Taeyong went on to plug his phone into the stereo, but before he could turn the music up and continue their practice, he caught the sight of Johnny squirming around like a salted slug from his peripheral vision.

 

“Oh… are you,-?”

 

Johnny only let out an affirmatory exasperated grunt as a response, as he was too busy trying to pull the front of his baggy sweat pants to hide the lovely sight of his unsightly boner. He was in the process of thinking that maybe he should consider wearing those compressing ladies underpants when Taeyong said,

 

“Maybe I can help with that?”

 

And caused Johnny to potently choke on his saliva,

 

“No, please, I can do it myself.”

 

The smile on Taeyong’s face as he said his next sentence was far too casual to fit with the context of the situation, and Johnny quickly learned that if he ever wanted to really be with Taeyong, he got to learn to live with it.

 

“Then the least you can do is let me watch.”

 

Won’t be something he’ll learn in a day, that he was sure of. But probably in a few nights, he could develop a strong enough mental immunity to brave through it all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title's from "Your Honor" by Regina Spektor  
> and story was inspired by [this writing insp post](https://moon-soil.tumblr.com/post/165391091372/fictional-kiss-things-that-end-me-meme) (help a sorrowful writer by suggesting what type of kiss I should incorporate in my story next, either by commenting below, or by giving my twitter a visit [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil))
> 
> wow that's a smooth plug-in


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